


Don't Look Now

by Threshie



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids, Angst, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Without His Skin, Crying Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Feels, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Hank Anderson Swears, Hate Crimes, Hugs, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Protective Hank Anderson, Thirium (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threshie/pseuds/Threshie
Summary: Connor is attacked while walking Sumo, and ends up hurt and unable to turn his human-looking skin back on. Hank has never seen him without it, but the only choice is to lean on Sumo and limp home…





	Don't Look Now

Since the androids’ peaceful uprising, the government had declared them people and granted them the freedoms of other citizens. Connor had chosen to remain with Hank and Sumo, who felt more like family than any of the androids he’d met. He was a unique model coming from a unique situation — being the one who hunted the others down during the deviant investigation. Because of that history, and of nearly assassinating Markus thanks to Amanda, Connor felt it was safer for everyone if he stayed away from other androids as much as he could.

Living with Hank was pleasant enough. The man was still bitter and cynical much of the time — depression and alcoholism didn’t just vanish overnight. Still, Connor thought that Hank seemed happier now that he was here, too. Sumo was old for a Saint Bernard, but he looked forward to the daily walks Connor had started to take him on. The RK800 had taken to wearing more casual clothing, but he’d left his LED in place. Hank had agreed with him that he had no reason to hide being an android, and Connor didn’t particularly want to pass as human. He was an android — there was no shame in that. 

Sometimes he wondered if Hank accepted him so much because he’d only ever seen Connor’s human appearance, though. Like other androids, the RK800 had a skin over a white plastic base. Hank was aware of it, but seeing it was different. He had only ever seen Connor’s human-like appearance. Connor was a little afraid to show him his actual self.

Today he wouldn’t have a choice.

The attack came out of the blue. Connor was walking Sumo around the corner of a house with high hedges when two men and a woman dashed around the corner and grabbed him, shoving him to the ground before he had a chance to react. He struggled, but there were hands holding his arms, and he couldn't get back up.

Back when he was a machine, Connor would have reacted with deadly efficiency; now his deviant mind was stunned by a flood of emotions — shock, bewilderment, anger. When one of them raised his head and slammed it down hard against the pavement, Connor heard a cracking sound and fear bubbled up among the other emotions.

Why? Why were they doing this? 

He knew that some humans still despised androids. But it was so senseless. He was just walking the dog, not doing a thing to interfere with their lives.

There was another crack, and then another. He was vaguely aware of being unable to struggle as well with one leg now.

Sumo’s snarling cut through the fog of emotions in Connor’s head, and he realized abruptly that nobody had hold of him anymore. He was laying on his face on the ground, the damage alert alarms blaring in his head in some semblance of what he’d always imagined pain would be like, and Sumo’s barking and growling sounded further away.

Slowly, Connor pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and then sat back on the sidewalk. He saw the blue bloody smear on the pavement there and winced. That was from his head. Where was Sumo? If the attackers had hurt him, Connor wasn’t sure how he’d ever forgive himself, or how Hank would forgive him…

“Sumo!” Connor called, placing a hand to his head to feel for the damage. He found it — a distinct crack in one temple. More alarming yet, though, Connor didn’t feel any hair on his head. His skin…his appearance as a human was deactivated! They must have damaged the switch in his head that controlled it. 

Suddenly, overwhelmingly, Connor felt like he was choking. His eyes welled up with perfectly-emulated tears, and the only thing that kept him from curling up right there on the sidewalk was Sumo returning and starting to lick his face. 

“G-good dog,” Connor sniffled, hugging around the Saint Bernard’s neck. He was relieved that Sumo was okay. Hank’s reaction to seeing Connor without his skin, though…Connor dreaded it. He pulled himself up to his feet by leaning on the giant dog, noting that one leg was indeed damaged from the knee down. It made him limp pretty badly, but far worse was walking around with no skin, splattered with his own blood. 

Nobody stopped to help him on the way home. People saw all of the blood on both him and on Sumo’s fur, and they crossed to the other side of the street. Connor was starting to feel weak from the blood loss. He didn’t know if the attackers were following him, but if they came to Hank’s house they’d be faced with an armed and furious police officer. He just had to get home to Hank.

The blood left a drippy little trail behind Connor, and by the time he reached the front porch he could hardly reach up to press the doorbell button. 

“Hank,” he tried calling, but his voice was strained and weak, too. Connor had no idea how much damage the attackers had done, but it didn’t feel serious. The senselessness of it all overwhelmed him again, and he sat down heavily on the porch with an arm still hooked around Sumo’s neck. The dog howled loudly, whining, and the door popped open.

“What the — FUCK, Connor? Is that you?” 

Before Connor could reply, he felt hands on his shoulder and face, turning his head to look up at the cop’s blue eyes. Hank looked…it was difficult to tell, honestly, through the blur of tears.

“I-it’s me,” Connor answered shakily. “Hank—”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Hank swore softly in anger and disbelief. He wrapped both arms around Connor without one bit of hesitation, pulling him to his feet. The android started to lean against him, but Hank kept going, scooping Connor up in his arms and turning to carry him into the house. Sumo padded after them, now just whining sadly.

“What in the goddamn — who the FUCK did this to you?” Hank demanded, placing Connor on the couch. When he stopped and looked the android’s face over, his brows pinched and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Sumo settled on the floor beside the couch, still whining.

Connor couldn’t meet Hank’s eyes. He was programmed to be a police officer — he was supposed to be able to defend himself, wasn’t he? 

He felt pathetic to Hank. Pathetic for being victimized like this. Pathetic for being so ashamed and afraid of the man seeing his real face that he was barely swallowing down the sobs. Definitely pathetic for feeling so rattled after being attacked. 

It wasn’t as if Connor hadn’t been attacked before. He’d fought and been perfectly matched against the identical copy of himself in the CyberLife Tower. He’d led an ARMY to the android uprising, and he’d joined the deviants in escaping the police in Jericho, being shot at all the while.

None of that shook him even a fraction of the amount that he was shaken by this.

“I hardly…s-saw them,” he told Hank, his voice wavering. “Sumo chased them off. I’m s-sorry…” He put his hands over his face and felt his shoulders shuddering with sobs, and it was awful and overwhelming. Now Hank had seen him — really seen him. Would he be able to ever think of Connor the same way again? Was Connor damaged permanently, would he ever be able to turn his skin back on again…?

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault,” Hank said from beside him. His voice had softened to a gentle tone Connor had never heard before, and it was strangely reassuring. So was the arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other hand going around his chest in a sideways hug. “You’ll be okay. Let me take a look at that cut on your head, alright?” 

Connor struggled to steady his voice out, and it sounded like a whimper as he replied, “No, don’t…don’t look at me.” 

Hank cupped his face with one hand, turning Connor’s head to look him in the eyes.

“Connor,” he said, very seriously, “This’s just you. The fuckin’ injuries, those piss me off, but there’s nothing wrong with you looking like YOU.”

Connor looked at him almost desperately, tears rolling down his cheeks and undoubtedly leaving streaks through the blue blood there. 

Hank had a fierce look in his eyes, a protective look. He pulled Connor into his arms again and held him close.

“It doesn’t matter what color we bleed, or if we’re made of flesh or plastic. You’re Connor, you’re my Connor,” he murmured, patting the android’s back gently. “My son. Somebody hurt my son, and that’s all I care about. If you’re gonna be okay, if you need help or, uh, or spare parts, whatever you need.” 

Connor hugged him tightly back and felt calm wash over him. Hank still considered Connor his son. That meant so much that he couldn’t describe how it felt to hear it. The awful weight that had settled on him when he’d realized that he couldn’t turn his skin back on suddenly lifted away. 

Even if he couldn’t self-repair enough to look like himself again, Hank would still treat him the same.

Hank sat back after a long moment, wincing at the sight of the wound on Connor’s temple and the blood all over his face. 

“How can I help, what do you need? Just say the word,” he said, keeping steadying hands on Connor’s shoulders.

“I just need more thirium,” the android said quietly, looking up at him. Hank looked right back, and if his gaze swept over Connor’s pale face, it wasn’t to look at the lines of the plastic or the serial number on his cheek. It was just to look at the wound on his temple with concern. 

“I-I don’t know why they did it, Hank. I was just walking Sumo, I wasn’t…” Connor sniffled, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Hank’s shoulder. The cop hugged him and rested a hand at the back of Connor’s neck. He felt vulnerable without the skin to hide beneath, without hair to hide the curve of his head. It felt like Hank must be staring at him, even though Connor was sure he wasn’t. 

“It’s sure as fuck not your fault,” Hank muttered, patting his shoulder gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up — then if you’re up to it, we’ll go for a little drive to the station and file a report. Those assholes won’t get away with this.”

Connor nodded against his shoulder. He didn’t want them to get away with it, either, but right now he felt safest here at home with Hank. Walking into the station without his skin on sounded scary. Hank would be with him, though. They would face it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading my fanfic! My pal [FormidablePassion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormidablePassion/profile) and I are in a fic-for-fic posting deal, so me posting this nudges Foop to post a new fic as well. It's a win/win! :D
> 
> I wrote this one as a sort of self-indulgent "get the feels out" kind of thing. Hank as Connor's dad is just adorable and their dynamic is awesome. Love these two. Comments and kudos always super appreciated! ♥


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